


well met by moonlight

by violaceum_vitellina_viridis



Series: leshen!jaskier [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe, Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Bestiality, Bondage, Bottom Lambert (The Witcher), Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Cult of Kate, Knotting, Leshen Jaskier | Dandelion, Leshens (The Witcher), M/M, Mentioned Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Monsterfucker Lambert (The Witcher), Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Other, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plugs, Rough Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Size Kink, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Vines, Wet & Messy, Wolves, belly bulge, no beta we die like stregobor fucking should have, see notes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violaceum_vitellina_viridis/pseuds/violaceum_vitellina_viridis
Summary: Lambert knows he’s being toyed with.After Geralt spends a winter bragging, Lambert goes to find Jaskier for himself.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Series: leshen!jaskier [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943623
Comments: 51
Kudos: 418
Collections: Blame Kate For This Fic





	well met by moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> _whoo._ alright. this one can be firmly kate's fault, since this is like, 80% her plot bunny. but there's several culprits here, all from the BIKM server, enabling me to write filth. special shoutout to heathen, who is definitely the reason i ended up finishing this last night lmao.
> 
> bestiality tag - exactly like my last leshen!jaskier fic, the wolves are under his complete control and not experiencing any of this, he is.

Lambert knows he’s being toyed with.

It’s obvious, anyway, even without the little clues and hints he keeps finding. Jaskier, leshen or not, shouldn’t be this hard to find – and  _ yet. _ Lambert has been a handful of days behind on his trail for  _ weeks _ now. It’s a game, and one Lambert is tiring of quickly.

Until, of course, one of those little clues comes with a  _ gift. _

* * *

“What’s your name, Witcher?”

Lambert’s immediately on the defensive, but he bites his tongue and quickly finishes his ale. “What’s it to you?”

The innkeeper rolls his eyes. “Had a right bizarre patron come through a handful of days ago,” he says. “Paid quite the generous sum for me to keep a room set aside for, and I quote, ‘A very handsome Wolf School Witcher named Lambert,’ who he said would be coming through in two or three days. Can’t say you’re terribly handsome, Witcher, but you’re wearing a Wolf medallion and he seemed the type to think odd things. So, what’s your name?”

Lambert frowns. “Did you get the name of this mysterious patron?”

“I did, and a whole title, too. Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. ‘Course, I’d bet my left bollock that was fake, but ‘s what he said.”

“Hm.” Lambert resists the urge to roll his eyes. Geralt did warn him that Jaskier was prone to dramatics. “Yes, I’m Lambert. The title is real, by the way. Crazy fucker’s a Viscount.”

“Huh. Well, far be it from me to question the motivations of the nobility. Room’s paid for, Witcher, and a bath will be sent up soon.” He sets a solid brass key down on the table and then leaves. Lambert stares at it for quite a while before he picks it up and heads upstairs to the room.

It’s entirely too nice, and Lambert doesn’t want to think about how much Jaskier spent for it to be held until he arrived. So he doesn’t. Instead, he looks for the clue. He knows there’ll be one – there has been the last handful of stops, and there’s no reason for Jaskier to stop now, not when he’s clearly put so much time, effort, and thought into this little chase he’s leading Lambert on.

He finds it next to the washbasin. The slip of parchment is tiny, easy to miss, but Lambert is both a Witcher  _ and _ he’s looking for it, so he finds it well enough.

The ostentatious blue ink Jaskier has been using for every one of these notes greets him. He doesn’t bother to repress his eyeroll this time.

_ Getting closer, little wolf. The room isn’t your only present. _

Lambert raises a brow at that, but before he can puzzle out what it might mean – besides the obvious – there’s a knock on the door.

Ah. Bath.

“Come in,” he says, because he was distracted by the hunt for Jaskier’s clue and hadn’t locked the door behind him.  _ Sloppy. _ Vesemir would have a fit.

Lambert pushes that aside and stays near the washbasin while a couple of younger girls bring in bucket after bucket of steaming water to pour into the tub. They look nervous, but not enough to shake or scurry, so Lambert just remains where he is until the tub is filled and they’re gone. Then he locks the door – jiggling the handle to double check it – and starts to strip out of his armor and clothes.

He needs to wash them, too, at some point. He adds it to the list of things he needs to do later and heads toward the tub.

That’s when he finds the second gift.

It’s…not really hidden, but it’s also not obvious, where it sits next to the tub, near the head and sort of tucked against the wall. Also, being the same basic color as the wood surrounding it, it would be easy to miss for anyone who wasn’t looking.

Lambert’s rather sure he’s the only person who has been looking.

At first, he’s not really sure what it is, but when he bends to pick it up, its use becomes  _ abundantly _ clear. His cock twitches against his thigh at the weight of it in his hand. He wonders what it’s made of – it feels like lacquered, polished wood, but it’s heavier than he would expect of wood. He turns it in his hands for a moment and considers.

Of course, he knows very well why he’s searching Jaskier out. And it was easy to guess that Jaskier knew it, too, considering the chasing and the thinly-veiled teasing in the notes. (It wasn’t hard to figure out that Geralt had somehow spoken to Jaskier before Lambert had started this hunt.)

But this – this is…well, not really a challenge, but that’s all Lambert can think of, really – this is Jaskier  _ calling his bluff _ , as it were. If Lambert doesn’t go along with this part of the game, it probably means the game is over.

Sure, he was tiring of the game before, but this? This makes it  _ so much more  _ interesting. He doesn’t want the game to be over now.

He sets the little plug on the side of the tub, and slides into the bath.

* * *

After that, there’s a new  _ present _ with every little clue.

Jaskier doesn’t always go as extravagant as that first time – the room and the bath – but he doesn’t exactly pull punches, either.

“Ah, Witcher, I was hoping you’d be coming through soon.”

“You…were?” Lambert tries to school his expression into seriousness instead of outright shock, but he’s not sure he succeeds.

“Yes, yes. Had a man come through a few days back that said you would be coming soon, and we’ve need of a Witcher, see. I assume you’re up to taking a contract?”

“…yeah, of course.”

The plug, so far the fourth he’d been gifted, is exactly what he’d expected, in that it’s slightly larger and heavier than the last. However, he wasn’t exactly expecting to open the bag of coin he was handed by the alderman to find it nestled amongst the coins.

“Not sure what that is, Witcher, but the man – the one that told me you were heading this way? – he said it belonged to you.”

Lambert manages to choke back a hysterical giggle, but it’s a near thing. “Thanks.”

* * *

It isn’t until the sixth plug that Lambert realizes that the toys are, in fact, meant to be a challenge. Just a different kind of challenge than he expected.

_ Remember what Geralt said about wolves, darling. _

Lambert can’t get undressed quickly enough, and he nearly fumbles his bottle of very nice oil in his haste. He’d bought it in the last market he’d come across, entirely too expensive but necessary and – so far –  _ very  _ worth it.

The first finger sinks in easily. He’s used to the smaller plugs, now, since he’s been wearing them whenever he’s not riding or hunting as he continues trying to track Jaskier down, so one finger is nothing. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel  _ good, _ though.

“Fuck.” The oil is thick and warm and makes everything smooth, so he’s quickly moving up to two fingers just to feel a  _ little  _ stretch and burn. He wonders if Jaskier knows that he likes that. He wonders, too, if it even matters – Geralt had said that there’s not much that can really get you used to the size of a leshen cock.

Lambert’s been drooling over the thought since.

He spreads those two fingers apart just to feel the way his stomach drops at the sensation, fucking them in and in and  _ in  _ with little, sharp pushes. He can’t quite get a good angle on himself – too many shoulder injuries to be flexible enough anymore – but it’s good enough to make him moan, to leave him panting a little into the pillow he’s leaning against.

“Fuck, fuck.”

A third finger makes his cock jump against his thigh, and he chuckles breathlessly as the pleasure burns through him. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, as if there’s anyone to hear him. “Fuck, yes.”

He uses the three fingers until his patience runs out – rather quickly, as patience isn’t a virtue he has any particular interest in when it’s not life-or-death – and then he’s grabbing the new plug and the oil.

This one has a different shape. The others have been typical, egg-shaped, with thin tapers and wider bottoms that thin out before a wide base – exactly what one thinks of if they’re familiar with the concept of a plug. However, this one is – well, not quite dick-shaped, but it’s more phallic, longer, and has a much wider bottom before the base. He cannot  _ wait  _ to feel it inside him.

Oil makes his grip slippery, but he manages to hold on to the bottom of the toy long enough to line it up. With the top being less tapered than the others, it takes a bit more work, but eventually he gets the very tip to sink into him, and the rest follows with a pointed push.

It’s easy, familiar, until it starts to widen. He gasps and his eyes roll a little as he keeps going, slower but still a steady slide. Even having prepared himself with three fingers, he can feel the stretch of this, and he finds, when he tunes back into the world for a split second, that he’s  _ drooling _ for it.

“Fuck, fuck,  _ please, _ ” he begs the indifferent inn room.

At the widest part he has to stop and sort of work himself with it for a moment, the stretch and pull sending his pulse high and quick. His cock throbs against his belly where it’s risen, and there’s a sticky puddle of precome that he’ll have to clean when he’s done. He can’t be fucked to care about clean up right now, though, not when he feels like he’s going to come from this alone.

“Gods,  _ fuck. _ ” One last little shove is all it takes and the plug sinks into his body, his hole clenching and grasping at the thinner end before the base, and his back arches at the spike of pure pleasure that sparks through his blood. He feels  _ full, _ and it barely takes three strokes to bring him off.

He moans out Jaskier’s name when he comes the first time. And the second, and the third.

* * *

The plugs continue to change. They keep getting larger and heavier, as well, but the shapes begin to vary. The seventh is rather thin overall, but  _ long;  _ the eighth has a spiraling ridge patterns that Lambert is hard pressed to stop fucking into himself each time he uses it.

Until he gets the tenth plug, the eighth is his favorite. He uses it to open himself up for the subsequent ones, usually fucking himself until he comes at least twice to the feeling of those ridges slipping past his rim.

But the tenth – the tenth is something different entirely. It’s not even recognizable as a plug, except for the thin end before a base. Aside from that, it’s – well, it’s more of a proper toy, but it’s not shaped like any human cock Lambert has ever seen. (And he’s seen plenty.)

No, this is shaped like a  _ wolf’s _ cock. Tapered at the head, widening down into the shaft, even wider at the knot before it thins back down and flattens into a proper base.

It takes a lot of willpower to properly open himself up for it, instead of just trying to take it without prep. He’s practically drooling at just the  _ thought _ of the toy, never mind what it feels like when he finally does sink it into himself. It’s  _ big, _ and the shape is so unfamiliar he’s breathless at it.

The next two plugs are the same shape, just bigger by inches and the heaviest yet. The last, the twelfth one, has a little loop of chain attached to the base. Lambert has no idea what it could be for, really, but he’s not thinking much about it, because the note this time was longer, and came pinned to a little scrap of fabric.

_ Follow my scent into the forest, little wolf. Make sure you’re wearing that plug – you’ll want to be nice and open for the next part. You’re not allowed to come until you’re here. _

Lambert bites back a whine at the last bit. He’s already half-hard and desperate for it, just seeing the size of the last plug and the promise of the end of their game.

He has to take a few minutes to try and calm down, centering and trying to breathe like he does to meditate. It takes longer than it should, excitement buzzing under his skin, but he manages, eventually. Once he’s sure he’ll be able to handle himself, he grabs the eighth plug as well as the tenth and some oil, and sets to getting himself ready to take the newest.

With all the use of plugs recently, he doesn’t even have to start slow, and he’d be lying if he didn’t say that being able to sink two fingers into himself without preamble doesn’t make his cock twitch wildly. He uses probably too much oil, still, wanting to be able to speed up the process even just a  _ little _ bit.

He’s certain he could take several days to make it to the forest and Jaskier would still be waiting for him – it’s hard to miss just how loyal the bard is – but he doesn’t want to wait. Barely wants to spend the time necessary to open himself up. But he thinks back to one of the notes, “ _ Remember what Geralt said about wolves, darling, _ ” and he knows he’ll regret not doing as he’s told.

And, despite what it may seem like, he does like to be good. When there’s a good enough reward in it for him, at least.

He gets up to three fingers before his patience wears out. Oil gets poured over the eighth plug, and he slowly,  _ slowly _ works it in, gasping and panting into the bed with each little push. The ridges aren’t any less intense now as they were the first time. In fact, he thinks it might be  _ worse, _ with the anticipation of what’s to come stoking the fire in his belly higher and higher.

There’s no way to stop himself from whining with each push of the toy; all he can do is try to muffle the noise into the sheets, the pillows, and hope that no one with decent hearing is anywhere nearby. He spends longer than he usually would fucking himself on the widest part, swearing colorfully, until there’s no more stretch to the sensation. He sits up, wobbling, and discards that toy for the next, the smallest of the wolf-shaped ones.

“Fuck, fuck,” he mumbles, slurred, as the toy sinks in slowly. He gets it all the way to the knot before he can really feel the strain of it, and the noise he lets out is weak and desperate,  _ obscene. _ “ _ Gods. _ ”

He thinks about what Geralt told him, while he works the knot into himself. About the wolves, how Jaskier hadn’t even given him a break, about how Jaskier was  _ still _ a stretch after five knots. The widest part of the toy finally pushes inside him and he shudders hard enough to shake the bed, cock twitching and throbbing wildly against his belly.

It’s so much – this toy, and the next, the  _ last _ – and he’s just going to get  _ more. _ He has to squeeze at the base of his cock to stop his rising orgasm. He lets the toy settle inside of him, knot spreading him wide before his hole clenches weakly around the base, and breathes.

“Just a little bit longer,” he mumbles to himself.

When he feels like he’s back in control, he starts pulling the toy  _ out, _ not far enough to pass the knot but  _ almost. _ Fucking himself on the knot, whimpering wildly at the almost-too-much stretch of it. He has to keep that grip at the base of his cock, the pleasure tinged with that burn of overworked muscle pushing him so close to the edge he can  _ taste  _ it.

He starts to shiver uncontrollably at one point, each push of the toy’s knot making him whimper, and he decides if he doesn’t get to the last toy and calm down, he won’t make it to the forest tonight.

And he really,  _ really  _ wants to make it to the forest.

* * *

The newest toy makes it a little hard to walk, but Lambert is determined. He waits until night falls, so that most of the people in this little town have gone to sleep, and then grabs his swords (wouldn’t do to be caught unaware), as well as the scrap of fabric Jaskier left.

It’s absolutely soaked in his scent, the one Lambert recognizes from each winter Geralt comes home – buttercups and lavender and lemon, almost spicy despite the sweet tones. With that reminder tucked into his jerkin, it’s easy to catch and follow the smell into the woods.

There’s no telling where Jaskier is leading him – this forest is vast, and mostly uncharted. Probably infested with monsters, too, but Lambert’s not too worried about any of them, considering it’s a leshen he’s going to meet. Most monsters give leshens wide berths.

Eventually, though, the trail gets fainter and fainter, until it’s almost entirely overtaken by the smell of wolves. Wolves, and the damp green of the forest but  _ amplified.  _ His medallion vibrates against his chest.

“ _ Lambert. _ ”

He’s never heard Jaskier’s voice. His words, yes – not a bard on the Continent who isn’t peddling Jaskier’s songs – but his voice is new. And, he knows, this isn’t Jaskier’s  _ human _ voice. It’s a whisper and a booming echo all at once, and goosebumps raise on Lambert’s arms. But somehow, he can tell, this voice is similar to Jaskier’s human tone – smooth, and charming. Enticing.

“Jaskier?” Lambert asks back.

“ _ Keep going, Witcher. Due north. _ ”

Lambert shudders, but keeps walking, north like he’s told. It’s barely a few minutes later that he comes into a clearing, brightly lit by the moon, almost perfectly circular. Probably not a natural clearing, then, but likely Elvish made centuries ago. In the center of the clearing there’s a large log covered in some sort of moss and possibly clover.

“ _ Strip naked. On your knees, bend over the log. _ ”

Jaskier’s voice makes goosebumps flare over his arms again. Slowly, he starts stripping out of his clothes. He’d foregone most of his armor, just kept the tough leather jerkin, so it goes rather quickly. His swords get set carefully against a tree, and he piles the rest next to them, until he’s as naked as the day he was born and shivering lightly.

The grass is soft on his feet and swaying around his calves, and when he reaches the log he finds that it is moss and clover covering it. They’re soft as well, against his hands when he leans forward, and then against his belly and chest when he leans over it. He settles easily, balanced over the log, knees wide on the ground next to it. There aren’t any rocks or other debris to dig into his knees, even, and he finds himself stunningly comfortable.

“ _ Look at you, _ ” Jaskier’s voice settles over him like a cool breeze, and he shudders, head dropping forward as his shoulders hunch a bit. “ _ Pretty like that, all ready and waiting. Close your eyes. _ ”

Lambert sucks in a breath and does as he’s told. There’s a sound, a creaking, like branches in the wind but different – and there’s no wind. His medallion, dangling against the log, vibrates hard. He grits his teeth against the urge to open his eyes. None of the magic he’ll feel tonight will hurt him, he knows. Jaskier would never.

There’s a touch against his ankle, something that’s rough in some places but smooth in others, a little tickling. He tenses for a moment, but forces himself to relax, and the touch continues. It’s – a vine? He’s not really sure, and there’s no way to check without opening his eyes, so he just lets it be. Whatever it is, it twines around his ankle and calf, and then there’s another one at his other leg. Then his wrists.

He’s being tied up.

His stomach swoops and his heart rate picks up.

“ _ So good, Lambert, look incredible like this. Go ahead, try and struggle. _ ”

Lambert gasps and does as he’s told. The vines have a little give; he can pull his feet a little closer together, and he can bring his hand up to his face, but that’s it. He can’t close his legs, and he can’t push himself very far up from the log even if he tries.

“ _ Fuck, _ ” he mutters. “Fuck, Jaskier – ”

“ _ You like it, darling, I can tell. My wolves can smell it on you. _ ”

Lambert shivers and his cock twitches, leaving a smear of precome against the soft plants on the log. There’s more movement, more creaking, and another vine-like thing creeps up his leg. But this time, it doesn’t wrap around him or stop; instead, it keeps going, until it’s skirting around where the plug’s base rests against his skin.

“Oh, fuck.”

This vine doesn’t seem to have any sort of roughness to it, just smooth, almost waxy like a leaf. The tip of it is blunted but thin and  _ dexterous, _ nimble enough to tease around the base of the plug, pulling on it just a little. It teases for a moment, just flirting at the edge of the plug, enough to feel but nothing more.

And then its touch is gone, but Lambert hears the faint clink of chain, and the plug is being pulled on.

“Oh, oh,  _ fuck, _ ” he whines. The knot of the toy pulls at his hole, sending sparks up his spine. The vine just plays with it for a while, pulling until the knot threatens to pop out and then letting go, so the toy sinks back into his body with a wet sound. He jolts and whimpers with each tug, moans each time the plug settles back into his body, and somewhere,  _ everywhere, _ he can hear Jaskier chuckling.

“ _ You’re desperate for it, little wolf, _ ” he says, voice light with teasing. “ _ Look at you. Could you come like this? _ ”

Lambert makes a high, breathless sound, cock throbbing. “Yes,  _ yes, _ please, please Jaskier – ”

“ _ Then do it. Come for me, just like this. _ ”

The vine pulls the toy out again, just enough to make Lambert’s body seize, but this time instead of just letting it go, it  _ shoves _ the toy back in. Lambert cries out, thrashing against the vines holding him. The toy is pulled out again, quickly, and then shoved back, again, again, until the vine is properly fucking him with the knot of it.

“Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck, _ ” Lambert shouts as he comes. He makes a mess of the moss and clover just under his belly, but he can’t be fucked to care, not when the vine doesn’t  _ stop.  _ It keeps fucking him with the knot of the toy, until he’s shivery and oversensitive and there are tears gathering in his eyes.

“ _ Beautiful, little wolf, _ ” Jaskier practically  _ purrs _ the words, and Lambert shudders so hard the vines wrapped around him creak a little. Jaskier chuckles. “ _ There’s more where that came from, beautiful. _ ”

On the next pull, the vine doesn’t stop, and Lambert whines as the toy pulls out of him, leaving him feeling empty.

“Fuck, please,” he gasps, and Jaskier chuckles again.

“ _ You’ll get what you need, _ ” he says. “ _ And much more. _ ”

Before Lambert can complain any further, there’s a movement near his face, and then something – another vine, maybe? – is pressing at his lips. He opens his mouth for it, and finds that it is another vine, smooth like the one that had been fucking him with the toy, but it’s  _ slick. _ Whatever is on it – whatever it’s secreting, it’s smooth and tastes sweet, almost unbearably so, but once Lambert has opened his mouth he finds he doesn’t particularly want to close it, or force the vine out.

The vine starts to move, then, in and out, slowly moving deeper, until it’s threatening the clutch of Lambert’s throat. He moans around it, muffled, eyes rolling at the sensation and the taste of whatever the vine is covered in flooding him. His skin feels too tight, hot and itching, and his cock is throbbing still like he hasn’t already come once. Eventually, he has to swallow the flood of sweet slick, and it burns its way down to his belly, making his head spin. The vine moves faster after that.

He sucks at the vine and whimpers when _Jaskier_ makes a sound, something deep and rumbling, in response. The vine leaves his mouth for a moment, just enough time for him to slur out, “ _More,_ please,” before it’s back, somehow _larger,_ and even sweeter than before. There’s no gentleness now, and the vine shoves into his throat with a nasty, wet sound. Lambert gags and chokes around it, but his cock is twitching and he’s so close he’s going dizzy.

After several minutes of rough fucking, the vine gives him a break again. He groans and pants and drools, face messy with spit and whatever the vine keeps making him swallow. His skin is even hotter, now, and he feels so  _ empty _ , tears gathering in his eyes and threatening to fall.

“Jaskier, Jaskier, please.”

The first vine traces down his back and he gasps at the wet feeling of it. “Please, please.” He cants his hips up, wiggling a little bit as if he could entice the vine.

He can’t, really, but he can entice Jaskier, surely. Gods, whatever the vines are secreting make him feel like he’ll die without something inside him, like he’s going to burn up. Some kind of aphrodisiac, probably.

He wants  _ more. _

The second vine returns to his mouth and he opens for it, taking a deep breath through his nose and relaxing his throat so it’s easier for it to go deep, to fill out his throat. The first vine finally trails down to his hole, still gaping slightly from the toy, and presses just slightly in. A  _ tease. _

Lambert can’t beg around the vine fucking his throat, and he can only just barely move, but he tries all the same. All his words are slurred, muffled messes as he gags and chokes around the sweet-tasting vine, and each movement of his hips makes his cockhead brush against cum-wet moss.

Finally, just as the second vine gives him a brief break to breathe, the first pushes into him. He  _ screams _ , the sudden pressure and pleasure almost too much, and Jaskier is chuckling again.

“ _ Go ahead and come, little wolf, you deserve it. _ ”

Lambert whines, but the sound is cut off by the second vine shoving back into his mouth, and then he’s lost. He’s caught between the two vines, both slick and sweet and so,  _ so  _ much, moving in and out of him in an offset rhythm that gives him no chance to get his wits about him.

If he died here, he’d die happy.

At one point, his consciousness comes back around enough to realize that whenever the first vine fucks into his ass, something shifts oddly. It takes several minutes for him to parse it, still choking on the second vine, head spinning, but on a particularly rough, deep thrust, he figures it out.

The vine is distending his belly enough to lift him off the log.

His orgasm snaps through him like lightning, quick and just as scorching. He can’t writhe with the vines tying him down and the two stuffed in either end of him, but his body tries all the same.

When he finally comes down, the vines slow their thrusting and then, despite his desperate, begging whimpering, leave. He’s a mess, his own cum splattered all over his legs and belly and the log, drool and slick aphrodisiac wet on his face and between his ass cheeks.

“Jaskier, Jaskier,” he pants, voice wrecked from the rough treatment. “Please.”

“ _ Of course you still want more, _ ” Jaskier laughs. “ _ Geralt said you’d be greedy. You’ll get more, little wolf. _ ”

Lambert moans when he hears the first howl.

He can hear them, now, the wolves, coming closer. He’s not sure if they’d been still and silent before, of if maybe he’d been too distracted to hear them. But it doesn’t matter, not when he can hear them howling and panting as they come closer, closer, until they’re in the clearing with him.

There’s a lot of them, Lambert can tell. Six? Seven, maybe? Could be more – with all of them in the clearing, circling him, and his eyes closed, he can’t tell. He shudders at the possibilities.

“ _ Please, _ ” he begs quietly. Jaskier laughs again.

“ _ As you wish, _ ” he says, and then there’s the sound of one of the wolves padding closer to him.

Lambert shivers and tilts his hips up, bracing his palms against the ground in front of the log. The wolf snuffles at his legs, then his ass, nose wet and cold enough to make Lambert jump a little. The inspection continues up his back, to his neck, where the wolf licks over his nape.

“ _ Smell so good, _ ” Jaskier murmurs. “ _ Taste incredible, too. _ ” Lambert groans and pushes his hips back as much as he can.

The wolf’s paws settle on the log next to Lambert’s chest, and Lambert feels the soft fur of its belly brush over his back. Its cock rests in his crack, blisteringly hot, fleshy and pulsing.

“Fuck, please,” Lambert gasps. “Jaskier,  _ please. _ ”

The wolf – Jaskier, really, since he’s in control, and Lambert shudders – starts to rut, quick, sharp little movements. At first, its cock just drags over Lambert’s hole, a burning tease, but then it starts to move further back, and the head starts to catch. Once, twice, three times, and then on the fourth it finally finds the right angle and shoves  _ inside. _

Lambert wails and comes from the feeling alone.

There’s no stretch, no burn, but he’s still so  _ full. _ And there’s no wait, no pause, the wolf just starts  _ fucking _ , in and out at a brutal pace. It’s barely a handful of minutes before its knot is swelling, and it’s fucking the hardened roundness of it into Lambert’s hole, too.

Lambert wails and whines and struggles, fruitlessly, against the vines binding him. He begs for more, and Jaskier laughs. The wolf, for its part, finally comes, knot locking it inside Lambert so he can  _ feel _ it, the hot rush of it inside of him.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” Lambert whimpers, squirming what little he can. Geralt had said that Jaskier would ruin him, and he hadn’t been kidding. “ _ Fuck. _ ”

“ _ You feel so good, little wolf, _ ” Jaskier rumbles. “ _ All tight and hot. You’re milking that knot very well, so good. _ ”

“ _ Jaskier. _ ”

The wolf’s knot starts to deflate, and Lambert whimpers desperately as it pulls back, leaving him achingly empty and leaking. But there’s the sound of a second wolf now, paws quiet on the grass, and it’s barely a whole minute before there’s another cock laying against his ass.

This wolf’s paws rest on his shoulders, making his elbows buckle a little with the weight. The prick of claws makes hm shiver. Just from sensation alone, this wolf’s cock is bigger. Lambert wonders if they’re fucking him by size, to slowly get him ready for Jaskier’s cock.

Just thinking it makes him moan and drool.

It takes a little longer for this one to find the right angle, but when it does the fucking is rough from the start, even more so than the last. Lambert sobs and wails, nails digging up grass and making furrows in the soil beneath. Each thrust presses over his prostate, the wolf’s cock too big to do anything else. Lambert’s cock jumps with each vicious press, until he finally tips over the edge again, screaming through the pain-sharpened pleasure.

His head spins, everything fuzzy, for a long time. He feels the second wolf knot him, the pressure of it incredible but still no stretch after the plugs and vine. Even once the second knot goes down, he’s not quite with it. It isn’t until one of the vines comes back that his head clears properly. The vine plugs up his mouth, muffles his screaming and sobbing, makes him feel dizzier and hotter and even more desperate, somehow.

The vine stays, gagging and choking him, filling his belly with aphrodisiac from one end while he’s filled with cum from the other. The third wolf is bigger, confirming his theory, but it moves slowly, almost at a snail’s pace compared to the first two. He’s able to really feel the details of the cock as its shoved into him, the ridges of the veins and the wrinkled edge of the knot before it really swells.

He comes again, somehow, when the wolf fucks its knot inside him, in and out until it locks and it can’t move. The growl rumbles through Lambert’s whole body, and the vine gagging him seems to have its own sort of release; he chokes on the flood of slick but manages to swallow most of it. It still burns the whole way down, settling heavy in his belly, and he squirms and whines when the vine pulls back so it’s just teasing at his lips.

“ _ Still so desperate for it, little wolf, _ ” Jaskier says, and Lambert jumps and whimpers at the reminder that he’s being watched, that there’s even more waiting for him after the wolves. “ _ Two vines and three knots and you still want more. Look at you. You’re perfect. _ ”

“Please, Jaskier,” Lambert mumbles, lips and tongue fumbling around the very tip of the vine where it keeps painting that sweet slick over his mouth. “Please, want you.”

“ _ Oh I know, darling, but you’ll need quite a bit more before you can take me. _ ”

Lambert whines but doesn’t argue, instead just sticking his tongue out to try and catch the vine. Whatever the aphrodisiac is, its  _ addicting, _ and he wants more of it, too. The vine obliges and pushes just inside his mouth. He sucks at it and hears Jaskier rumble a pleased sound just as the third wolf’s knot starts to deflate.

“ _ Look at you, _ ” Jaskier says. “ _ I wish I could paint, darling, and I’d paint you like this. Covered in cum and gaping. It’s a good look. _ ”

Lambert whimpers around the vine in his mouth and wiggles his ass. Jaskier laughs.

The fourth wolf is the biggest so far, and not just its cock. Lambert feels dwarfed by it, surrounded by soft, damp fur, and he groans around the vine as it starts to rut.

For the first time, when the head of this wolf’s cock catches, he feels a stretch. The vine leaves his mouth long enough for him to wail, “Oh,  _ fuck, _ ” and then it’s back, inching down his throat with a flood of sweet slick. This wolf moves faster, but not to the extent of the first two, and Lambert can’t help the way he sobs and cries around the vine with each thrust.

It  _ hurts _ , his rim stretched taut and swollen, puffy from the previous abuse, but it also feels so good he’s crying, tears mixing with the drool and aphrodisiac on his fast to make even more of a mess. No matter how hard he squeezes his eyes shut, he can’t stop the tears, and somehow the mild humiliation of  _ crying _ makes this even better. The heat of the embarrassment gets tangled up with the heat of arousal in his belly, and when he hears Jaskier make a low, pleased noise, it just gets  _ better. _

“ _ You look so good stretched around that cock, Lambert,” _ he rumbles. “ _ You’ll look even better on mine. I’ll pick you up like I did Geralt and use you as a cocksleeve. You’ll like it even more than he did, I can already tell. _ ”

Lambert wants to reply, wants to tell him  _ yes, _ wants to beg for it, but the vine keeps fucking his throat and the wolf’s knot starts to swell and he’s lost to another orgasm. He can’t even remember how many that is, now, head scrambled from the pain and the pleasure both.

He comes to after a moment of blinding white as the fourth wolf’s knot deflates. The vine is gone again for the time being. He moans at the feeling of cum flooding out of him, but there isn’t much chance for too much to leak out, because the fifth wolf is there quickly.

The stretch is back again, and the burn, too, and Lambert feels new tears streak down his face. “Fuck,  _ fuck, _ please, please – ”

“ _ Are you begging for more, little wolf? _ ”

“ _ Yes, _ ” Lambert keens, “more, more, want  _ more. _ ”

“ _ You’ll get it, darling. _ ”

It feels like a small eternity before the fifth wolf is able to rut into him, but when it finally happens all of Lambert’s strength goes out of him with another impossible orgasm. This one is different, not really blinding, just  _ sharp, _ the wolf’s continued rutting making it spike and spike and  _ spike _ until his voice is nearly  _ gone,  _ because he’s screaming so much.

Just as he feels the fifth knot press against his rim, the vine returns, and it tastes different now, not really sweet but not bitter, either. Lambert sucks at it all the same, desperate for it, for  _ everything, _ even as there’s no strength in his limbs and the stretch of the fifth knot tugging at his rim makes shocks of pain flare up his spine. He sucks at the vine and swallows the slick fluid it pours into his mouth.

“ _ So good for me, Lambert, _ ” Jaskier praises. “ _ Taking everything you’re given so well. _ ”

Lambert makes a contented sort of rumbling sound around the vine in his throat, and Jaskier makes a short, sharp noise that shakes the ground Lambert’s kneeling on.

Whatever the vine is secreting now isn’t the same aphrodisiac as before, if it’s an aphrodisiac at all. Lambert doesn’t know how to describe what’s happening to his body, but his cock throbs back to hardness, balls pulsing to match, and he suddenly feels so empty even with the massive knot caught inside him.

The vine leaves again and Lambert sobs. “Please, please, I need – need more, Jaskier,  _ please. _ ”

“ _ Just a little bit, darling, and I’ll give you more. _ ”

The fifth knot finally deflates, and the wolf leaves, but Lambert doesn’t hear another approach. He sobs again, whining, tears falling all over again, and then there’s something pressing to his hole. Another vine, or one of the others, he doesn’t know. It’s not  _ enough, _ he still feels so  _ empty, _ but the slick is soothing, takes away the sting of his overworked muscle and the burn of friction. It fucks him gently, spreading that slick around, for several minutes, and then it’s gone again.

_ Then _ Lambert can hear another wolf.

“ _ This one has an interesting little mutation, _ ” Jaskier says, as the hulking beast climbs over Lambert. “ _ I think you’ll enjoy it. _ ”

“Interesting – ”

The vine is back in his mouth before he can finish asking. He whimpers around it, then again when he feels the wolf’s cock against his ass. It’s  _ huge, _ which is saying something considering everything that’s been inside him recently, and he shudders in a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

It catches quickly, and it’s clearly not just girthy, it’s  _ long. _ And at first, Lambert has no idea what Jaskier could mean about  _ interesting little mutation, _ as – aside from the size of the thing, enough to bring that stretch back again – he can’t feel anything different about this cock.

Until he feels a knot start to inflate. In the  _ middle _ of the wolf’s cock.

The vine pulls back and he’s immediately babbling, “ _ Oh, _ oh fuck, oh, too much, fuck, so big, want – fuck, fuck, _ fuck! _ ”

It takes a handful of brutal thrusts, but that knot finally shoves inside of his body, shoving him straight to the edge of yet another orgasm, and he  _ screams, _ tears falling steady now, no breaks. But the wolf keeps  _ going, _ keeps pushing, cock and that mutated knot sinking deeper,  _ deeper, _ until Lambert can feel the  _ other _ knot pressing at his hole.

“Fuck, fuck,” Lambert babbles, slurred and broken up by sobs, “ _ gonna, _ fuck, oh, oh,  _ Jaskier, _ I can’t – I can’t – ”

“ _ You can, little wolf, _ ” Jaskier says, and it’s not an encouragement, it’s an  _ order. _

The second knot pops in with a squelch, and Lambert tries to scream but all of the air has been punched out of him to make room for the monster cock in his ass, and all he can do is sob soundlessly as he comes  _ again. _

His body clenches down violently on the knots as he comes and the wolf above him  _ howls, _ the shuddering movement of its chest moving its cock. Lambert screams again, still just as soundless, as each forceful contraction his body makes presses his prostate against the middle knot, prolonging the pleasure and practically forcing him to milk himself.

Everything goes fuzzy as he keeps coming, pleasure so sharp it’s actually just pain but  _ better, _ and he’s almost glad to feel the knots start to deflate.

Until the wolf starts to fuck him on them, again, as they slowly go down. Each time the knots pop out of him and then back  _ in _ , he jolts, cock dribbling more cum to the ground –  _ impossible, _ that’s absolutely  _ impossible  _ – and whimpers, voice almost completely gone.

Finally, finally, the knots deflate all the way and the wolf pulls away. Lambert is left collapsed against the log, copious amounts of cum just pouring out of his gaping hole, breathless and  _ still  _ crying.

“ _ Still want more, little wolf? _ ” Jaskier asks, and Lambert  _ growls. _

“Want  _ you, _ ” he rasps, and Jaskier makes a low, pleased little noise.

“ _ I’m so lucky to have such nice little toys, _ ” he says, and the vines wrapped around Lambert’s arms and legs slither away, leaving welts and little scratches behind that sting and smart. Lambert can’t even work up the energy to care about that, too distracted by the way his cock – still improbably, impossibly hard – throbs at being called a  _ toy. _

“ _ My turn, _ ” Jaskier says, as large, clawed hands wrap around Lambert’s thighs. From the size of them, it makes Jaskier twice, maybe three times his height, about that much wider, too. What that could mean about his  _ cock _ …. Lambert whimpers and sobs and thrusts his hips back.

Jaskier laughs, loud and rumbling, ground and trees shaking around them, and pushes Lambert forward.

“ _ That was a good angle for the wolves, _ ” he says, “ _ but I need a bit more room. _ ” He rearranges Lambert until his hips are over the log, belly slanted over the side and chest, arms, and face are in the grass on the other side. He can feel the cool puddle where a mix of his drool, the aphrodisiac, and his tears settled underneath his chest. His feet are still on the ground, but his knees aren’t. He twists a little and digs his toes into the dirt for a little leverage, and Jaskier makes a delighted cooing noise.

“ _ So good for me, _ ” he says. “ _ You and your brother really are perfect little toys. Should keep you with me all the time so I can fuck you whenever I’d like. _ ”

Lambert whimpers into the grass and tries to push his hips up. Jaskier just laughs again, and then those clawed hands are at his hips and there’s something huge and blunt and hot pressed to his hole.

“Oh, fuuu _ uuuuuck, _ ” Lambert breathes, going quieter and quieter until it’s just a hissing breath. Even with everything, all the plugs and the wolves and whatever the vines did to him, it’s a stretch. At this point, there’s no pain – he’s not sure if that’s Jaskier’s doing, with the vines, or if his body has just passed its threshold for registering pain – but he can still feel the way his body protests a little, the dull throb of ache.

And its seemingly  _ endless _ , just thick pressure pressing inside of him forever, until he can feel it in his belly, his  _ ribs. _ He whimpers breathlessly and squirms, but he can’t  _ go _ anywhere; he’s trapped, between the position and Jaskier’s hold on him. “ _ …use you as a cocksleeve, _ ” echoes in his head and he pants, drooling into the grass and dirt below his mouth, tears still leaking steadily from under his eyelids.

Finally, finally, he feels Jaskier’s hips press into his ass, and he sobs.

“ _ Still so tight, perfect little fuck toy, _ ” Jaskier growls. “ _ Fuck. _ ”

He doesn’t pause, doesn’t ask, just starts to move, and Lambert feels his cock throbbing, twitching against the log its pressed to. He cannot possibly come again, but maybe he  _ can, _ and even just the thought makes him dizzy.

He babbles, wordless and mostly breathless, nearly  _ soundless _ , while Jaskier fucks him. It’s not really fast, but it’s deep and he’s so  _ big, _ and Lambert feels like he’s on some other plan of existence, one where his only purpose  _ is _ to be a fucktoy for a leshen-turned-bard.

“ _ Good, good, fuck you feel fantastic. Going to fill you up even more, little wolf. Want you to come when I do. _ ”

Lambert whines, the loudest noise he’s made in a handful of minutes. “Will,” he slurs, “wanna, fuck.”

“ _ I know, darling. _ ” Jaskier starts to move a little faster. Lambert feels like his stomach is dropping each time he pulls out, feels like he’ll choke on cock every time he pushes in, and his head goes fuzzy. Everything ends up very soft around the edges except for the searing pleasure in his blood, the sensation of being fuller than he’s ever been before.

His cock twitches, throbbing, and Jaskier  _ snarls, _ the sound all-encompassing. Lambert can feel the sudden rush of heat in his belly, and his orgasm overtakes him. Blinding white and sharp, sharp, until suddenly, it’s all black, and he’s gone.

* * *

When he wakes, he’s more sore than he’s ever been in his  _ life. _

The night before floods back to him and he groans, the sound faint and cracked through. Just that – the secondary reminder of how wrecked he was, the fact that he  _ lose his voice _ – makes him shudder.

“How are you feeling?”

It’s Jaskier, he can tell. The voice is different, obviously, not as…big, no longer an echo and a whisper all at once. It doesn’t make his medallion vibrate, either.

“Sore,” he croaks out. Jaskier laughs, and it’s a nice sound. Lambert finds himself smiling at it.

“Yeah, I would imagine. Anything too bad?”

Lambert takes a deep breath and tries to take stock of his body. He is sore, especially his ass and hips, but for the most part it’s tolerable. Nothing he’d complain about usually, nothing a potion couldn’t fix if he really needed it to.

“No,” he says. “Just…sore.”

Jaskier laughs again. “Well, you certainly earned the rest. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay? With food.”

Lambert hums, already slipping back into a doze. “’Kay.”

He pretends he doesn’t feel the kiss Jaskier presses to his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> did this awaken anything in you? because i had some interesting realizations while i was writing it. whoops.


End file.
